


No Tissue, No Document

by bulbasaurlife



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 12:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19701202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulbasaurlife/pseuds/bulbasaurlife
Summary: Summer of 1976, young Snape in Muggle London.This is a work of complete self-indulgence, no nutritional value whatsoever.





	No Tissue, No Document

June, 1976. A schoolboy sat, ignoring the chatter of his housemates, with his elbow to the window of their Hogwarts Express compartment. They knew better than to bother him. Outside of their House of Slytherin he may be the target of constant mockery, but the occupants of that compartment had shared a dormitory with him for 5 years and they knew how volatile he was, and how much damage he was capable of. They chose to begin the summer break with all their limbs intact.  
  
Snape was the boy's name. His stringy black hair hung over his pallid face. His thin body, on the small side for a 16 year old, sloped against the compartment wall, though every muscle of his body was tense. Behind the overgrown bangs, his heavy lidded black eyes stared blankly out the window.  
A couple of weeks before, Snape had gone through what he considered the worst moment of the worst year of his life. The shit ribbon to wrap up the shit present that was his 5th year at Hogwarts. His mind refused to consider the events clearly. To "think things through" as some distant part of him guessed he should. Or should he? To what purpose? In any case it didn't matter, it wasn't happening.  
  
Instead, flashes of the afternoon after the Defense OWL exams kept forcing themselves into the front of his mind, bringing along his old friends, the familiar flashes of the night of "The Incident". Well, the previous "Incident". Now it would have to be "The Beast Incident". The incidents were accumulating at a striking speed. Soon he would need a more sophisticated labeling system. Not that he wanted to think about them any more than he was forced to, by his own traitorous brain. This brain that always failed him when he needed it. The brain that was supposed to be what he prized the most about himself, but inevitably turned out to be as worthless as the rest. It never came up with the right thing to say, the right thing to do. Usually in moments like this (the post-"Incident" moments) he would relive whatever horrible humiliating moment Hogwarts threw at him recently, only instead of looking like a pathetic fool, in these retellings he was always clever enough, fast enough, good enough. This time though, he couldn't even do that. He had no energy left to keep his head up - literally. His head was propped up by the windowpane.  
  
\--

  
"...Snape? Are you listening to me?"   
  
"Huh?" He was startled out of his stupor by Wilkes, who was the only other boy left in their compartment.  
  
"We're here. It's time to go home."   
  
"Right. Thanks."   
  
Snape unfolded from his position and slowly went to grab his luggage. He wasn't looking forward to what came next. Usually he would ride with the Evans to Cokeworth. That was obviously not an option anymore. He hadn't warned his mum about needing to be picked up. He took his time on the way out of the train, trying to avoid running into any.. anyone.   
  
Luckily, most students were gone by the time he crossed the barrier out of Platform 9 3/4. He was in the middle of the station, still in his student robes, alone. He dragged himself and his old trunk up to a payphone. An older man stared at him from a nearby bench - Snape sent him his best evil glare. He reached into his pockets and scrounged up every penny to pay for a call home. It would be just his luck if nobody picked up and he wasted what little money he had.  
  
\--

  
It turned out to be exactly his luck. It didn't even ring. No one back home seemed to be in the mood to pay the phone bill.  
He cursed loudly and stomped out of the booth. Everything was terrible, now and forever, the end. Ranting indignantly to himself, he stalked out of the station and into a two-way street, dragging his luggage behind him.   
  
After several blocks, he started to calm down, his breathing slowed and he looked at his surroundings for the first time. He had no idea where he was. Did it matter anyway? He went on walking at a slower pace, no clear destination in mind. His boiling rage had simmered down for the moment, leaving him feeling sorry for himself, alone in the middle of London. At this hour of the day, cars still went by, but not a lot of people walked along the sideway. Up ahead he saw what looked to be a park. He felt like he might need to take a piss soon, plus he was tired and had nowhere to go. Better to sit down on a park bench and contemplate the unending woe of being alive with an empty bladder. He walked on.  
  
The sun was almost entirely gone. It was that time of the day when everything seems enveloped by a blue light. The park was nice and shadowy, with an eerie air that Snape found quite soothing. A man had appeared from somewhere to his left and walked casually in the same direction Snape was going. It was just a muggle, no need to pay him any mind. After a few moments, the man cleared his throat quietly.  
  
"Are you.. an actor?"  
  
Snape turned to him a little startled. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Your clothes. Are you a performer?"  
  
He looked down. Of course, he had completely forgotten to change out of his robes. He'd been walking around probably freaking muggles out for hours.  
  
"I... yes, I was- I did- I was doing... something. I haven't had time to change." He explained lamely. The man didn't seem especially bothered.  
  
"Ah. Does that pay well?" He asked, still with an air of casual polite interest.  
  
"Pay?" What a nosy muggle. How were the details of Snape's imaginary job any of his business? "Er. You know how it is..."  
  
The man hummed, looking around at the seemingly empty park. "Do you need money?"  
  
"What?" The boy blinked. Was this normal behaviour for muggles? He didn't remember them being like this in Cokeworth. Maybe it was because the man thought he was an actor.  
  
"Would you like to make a bit of money?"  
  
Was the muggle actually offering him money? A job? As an actor? Was it really so easy?  
  
"Er.. yes, actually. I really could use some money." Was his luck turning around? He wasn't actually an actor though.  
  
The man kept his casual air about him, nodding lightly and looking at nothing in particular. "Let's go over to the cottage, there."  
  
Oh good. He actually needed to piss, too. He followed the muggle to a cottage nearby. He went straight to the urinals to relieve himself, mindless of the stranger who loitered behind him in silence. After a moment, the man stepped next to him. Snape shook his prick and went to wash his hands, but the muggle stopped him with a hand on his arm. He turned to him questioningly, but the man stayed silent. He simply guided the boy's hand to the front of his own trousers, which bulged a little. Snape looked at him blankly. He pressed the hand against his crotch more firmly.  
  
Was this muggle coming onto him? Was this a joke, or a test of some kind? He was frozen. No one had ever expressed any sexual or romantic interest in him. He had no idea if this was how these things normally went. If this was even a case of "these things". His mouth opened foolishly. Should he say something? Try to kiss him? The man didn't look like he was going to kiss him (not that he would know what somebody looked like when they were going to kiss him), and Snape sure as fuck wasn't going to make the first move. But what if he was supposed to?  
  
The man seemed to realize he was going to have to take charge. With his free hand he undid his trousers and took himself out. Then, with no preambles and certainly no kiss, he wrapped Snape's hand around his cock and gave it an encouraging squeeze. As if it was nature (and wasn't it?), he started pumping his hand up and down the muggle's penis.   
  
He glanced up at the stranger's face. He seemed so happy and relaxed. And it was from him, from his hand. This random muggle had wanted Snape's hand on his cock. He wasn't even some kind of ogre, not deformed or ridiculously old. Just a muggle man, average face, maybe in his 30s or 40s. Someone experienced.  
  
The boy flushed. Was he doing his best? He could do better. He wanted this stranger to be impressed, better yet overwhelmed. The man opened his eyes, looked at him right in the face and he didn't seem displeased at all. Snape felt hot all over, his breathing had grown labored at some point. An unbelievable confidence took over him and he dropped to his knees in front of the stranger. He needed this muggle to remember him forever.  
  
He looked up, lips millimeters away from the head of the cock he still stroked, and saw in that muggle man's eyes exactly what he had always looked for. Awe.  
  
\--

  
That was how, in the first day of summer holidays, 1976, Snape sucked cock for the first time. He gave it his all and despite the lack of experience, he discovered that in addition to potions, and hexes, and writing comprehensive yet succinct essays, he was also very good at giving head. And he enjoyed it, like he enjoyed doing anything he was good at. And in this particular subject, the feedback was instant and so gratifying. He was hooked.  
  
When it was over, the muggle exhaled deeply and put a crumpled 5 pound note in his hand. He left without a word while the boy stared at the money in his hand. His eyes sparkled. Not only had this man wanted Snape to touch him, he had wanted it so much he was willing to pay for it. Truthfully he forgot all about the "job offer" when things got weird. It was clear now, the muggle had wanted him from the moment he saw him. He felt a strange urge to cry. It was ridiculous, but... it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. He was so happy, it was making him emotional. Over a 5 pound note, on the floor of a public loo. He laughed a little, feeling lightheaded. He really needed to wash his hands and his face. In a moment.  
  
\--

  
Eventually, all washed up and finally wearing muggle clothing, he wandered out of the park and found his way to a muggle shelter. He didn't want to spend his well-earned 5 pounds just yet. That night, he lay down in his cot and dreamt about a prince from an exotic Wizarding kingdom requesting his sexual services and showering him with expensive gifts.


End file.
